


The Beginning of the End

by skaikruqueen



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 02:35:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3833794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skaikruqueen/pseuds/skaikruqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Bellarke AU set during the war that destroyed the planet. Clarke sets off on her own after her dad is killed in one of the explosions. Bellamy saves her life and they band together with the delinquents to survive the war torn planet. Slow burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> My first chap of this fic! I can be found over at skaikruqueen.tumblr.com and I would love feedback! I have the story planned out but I'm willing to change it if you guys have any ideas! xx

     The first bombs went off with no warning. The screams pierced the night, the crashes of debris woke everyone in the state, practically everyone in the country. They were given no warning which directly violated the agreement made by the major world powers in 2020, 32 years before the war began. It was widely known that if a nuclear bomb was dropped countries would retaliate and it would be the end of everything.

  
     Clarke’s father Jake wanted to relocate their family to the countryside where the bombs would have less of an impact. Abby refused to let them go, she wanted to stay near the city and tend to the wounded. The need to heal flowed in her blood. She would set out in the morning before dawn and come back when everyone was asleep, covered in sweat and grime and blood.

  
     Some days she would save a few. Others there was nothing she could do. Clarke stayed at home painting the days away. There was no school for her to attend anymore, most of the government had been assassinated and the government had fallen to anarchy. The paint would flow from her bush painting stories of desperation and peace. Clarke was a poet even if she didn’t have a way with words, she had a way of colors.

  
     She painted while Abby and Jake argued about the next course of action. They finally came to a compromise, they would stay near the city for 3 more days. Then they would retreat to safety. Jake was out on the day before they planned to leave, searching for food. Grocery stores had their doors ripped off, and people grabbed whatever they could. Most people had fled a long time ago and the stores were now nearing empty.

  
     That is when destruction really started to rain down. The first bombs had been a warning. Now was the real show. The first few waves of bombs weren’t atomic so the main worry wasn’t radiation, it was being trapped under a pile of rubble. Clarke was in the middle of painting the stars when a blast shook the ground. She looked at the long streak down her painting, noticing how something so small, so sudden could ruin a masterpiece.

  
Clarke ran outside and headed in the direction where she expected her parents to be. She skidded to a halt outside where the grocery store used to be, sweating and out of breath. Abby reached it as the same time as Clarke and held Clarke back by her shoulders to stop her from running into the rubble. Fire erupted from where the gas lines had spilled, creating a hazy reality, and a barrier between her and her father.

  
     “He’s gone Clarke. He’s gone.” Abby said softly, her voice trembling as she tried to pull Clarke closer to herself.

  
     Clarke jolted back from Abby’s touch and started yelling, tears sliding down her face. “How could you? This is all your fault.” She said, jabbing at Abby’s chest. “If you had listened to him he would still be here. This is your fault.” Clarke scrubbed angrily at her tears, pulling away from Abby and struggling to get towards the ruins of the store.  
“Clarke…” Abby began hesitantly, “I was just trying to do the right thing.” Clarke looked Abby in the eye and said the last thing she would say to Abby in a long time.

  
     “Well you failed.” Clarke’s voice was cold and distant, her mind still replaying the rubble going up in flames, imaging her father taking his last breaths, did he die from rubble falling on him or from the fire? Could she have saved him if she ran quicker? Clarke turned on her heels and rushed home, determined to get out of this hellhole and away from Abby for good.

  
     Abby returned home to see Clarke angrily stuffing her backpack with some of their remaining food, and her clothes. Clarke was packing to leave. She gazed at her art supplies but understood that she had to leave them behind. From here on out it was about survival, survival of the fittest. Clarke left that night and Abby never expected her to return.

 

     Clarke had been walking in the forest towards the mountains for almost a day and a half and she was in desperate need of a break. She spotted a small river over the hill and decided that would be a good place to rest, running water would be safe for her to drink and there might even been edible plants by the river. Clarke was almost at the riverbed when a hand shot out and pulled her back.

  
     “Now, now what do we have here?” the voiced leered while another male shouted, “hey pretty lady!” Clarke was totally skewed out and thrust her elbow into the man’s stomach. “Feisty huh? That’s how I like them” was all he had to say in response. Clarke used a technique her father had taught her when she was younger, twisting his wrists so he was forced to let go and she sprinted off into the trees.

  
     ‘Damn it’ Clarke thought, she had dropped her bag in the struggle and now she had no food, water, or clothes. She debated circling around for it as she dashed into the woods but she didn’t want to risk another encounter with the creepy men. She was running so fast, driven by fear and adrenaline that the didn’t see that the ground ended at a cliff.

  
     Clarke’s feet slipped out from underneath her and out of instinct she reached up the grab the rocks but instead of her hand finding something cool and stable, it met something warm and soft, another hand. She looked up, her eyes still full of fear, her mind still reeling and she locked eyes with a boy with messy dark curls. He pulled her up carefully, and she could tell how strong he is.

  
     “Careful there princess,” he says, “Don’t want to take a running leap into the river.” “Princess?” Clarke asks, clearly not amused. “Oh yeah, princess, your clothes are still clean and you haven’t got a scrape on you.” He says, examining her body with his eyes to prove his point. Clarke flushes red at this stranger checking her out and she realized that she was still holding on his hand from when she pulled her up. She releases his hand and clears her throat.

  
     “My name’s Clarke. Clarke Griffin.” She says firmly, “not princess.” “Gotcha princess,” the freckled boy replies with a smirk, “I’m Bellamy Blake.”


End file.
